


Crescent Moon

by ThatDayEveryday



Series: Crescent Beginnings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Halloween, Halloween fic!, Hurt Remus Lupin, Non-Sexual, Pre-War, Pre-first wizard war Fenrir Greyback, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Thats where the blood comes in, Werewolf Turning, in every way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDayEveryday/pseuds/ThatDayEveryday
Summary: Fenrir bites Remus to get back at Lyall Lupin for opening his fool mouth. He planned on killing the boy, but decides that he is worth more than a meal in the end.Or, My take on how pre-first-wizard-war Fenrir Greyback gets started on his quest to turn as many as he can while they are young.Hint: it all starts with Remus.
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback & Remus Lupin, Lyall Lupin & Remus Lupin, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Crescent Beginnings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993690
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Crescent Moon

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S HALLOWEEN BABY! 
> 
> I had to do a halloween fic this year. I had to.
> 
> This is a pre-first war Greyback I'm spinning here. He's probs not 100% what your expecting. (Not total batcrap bloodthirsty crazy yet) he's still bad though.
> 
> Remus is precious babe and needs to be watched over better (looking at you Lyall).  
> Greyback isnt the one to be doing it.
> 
> Also, planning for more of this fic. Thinking about a series that follows sections of Remus' life at school and other places where Greyback keeps showing up. Let me know if its something you'd read if you end up liking this.

Like most four year-olds the boy is small, deliciously so. His little limbs are protected by a soft layer of baby fat, and his cheeks are flushed an appealing pink. His grey-blue eyes are blown wide with fear, and Fenrir can hear his little heart beat frantically from fifteen feet away. 

The perfect prey. Greyback's favorite actually.

Unlike most four year-olds, the little tyke doesn't scream or call for help as the werewolf draws near the play mat where the child's parents have mistakenly left him. He doesn't flinch away or start to cry when Fenrir leans in closely to inspect tonight’s bite. The child only sits there, watching. Anticipating.

Fenrir is crouched above the little one, concealing the boy from plain sight and completely engulfing the boy in the menacing dark of his shadow. The werewolf's back is turned to face the only door leading in and out of the room. Anyone coming inside the small space would only be able to see a dark mass huddled in the center of the play mat. 

To the onlooker, the only indicator that this was indeed a child's room were the wooden blocks scattered at the edges of the mat and the miniature bed nestled in the far corner closest to the open window.

It was the perfect crime scene. The tragic sort.

Fenrir bends even lower to take in the child's scent. His movement sweeps the slightly curled locks on the boy's head and a few wild strands brush against Greyback's furry face. The contact sends a sharp thrill down the wolf's spine and he presses his nose flush against the four year-olds’ scalp and inhales deeply. Below him, the boys shudders.

Aah, the scent is fresh, heady, and new. Promising. Tantalizing. Sweet. Saliva begins to pool in Greyback's mouth. Soon he'll get his first taste.

The werewolf catches a faint trace of Lyall on the boy and growls angrily at the unwanted reminder of the lousy hunter. 

His prey shudders and shrinks in on himself, becoming even smaller and more afraid. Fenrir listens to the wild pace the little one's heart is pounding and wonders what he would have to do to make the fragile organ putter out. 

As if the boy could tell the direction the murderer's thoughts were heading, the child lifted his head to meet Fenrir's hungry gaze. He was more than pleased to see that the child's innocent eyes were wet and dripping. It would please him even greater if the boy would cry.

With that in mind, the werewolf pinches the child's fleshy cheek harshly between two clawed, and filthy, fingers. The little morsel flinches, but does not so much as peep. 

How off putting.

And strange… The child should be a wailing mess by now.

The werewolf scowls down at the boy. He positively reeks of fear, his whole body shaking with it. Yet his mouth doesn't open to utter a sound. The child is frightened, there’s no question about that, but he doesn't make a fuss. Its not… natural how quiet the boy is being. It unsettles the rabid beast within Fenrir and the urge to be over and done with it strikes. 

Through with wasting anymore time, Fenrir settles himself gracelessly on the mat and pulls the shivering boy into his lap. Best to be comfortable for this next part. The little one's breathing quickens noticeably and the werewolf's hunger heightens. 

The thin shirt hiding the boy's naked flesh tears apart easily in Greyback's hands and soon it is nothing more than a pile of useless scraps. A smooth expanse of luscious skin now lays exposed before the werewolf's ravenous nature, ripe for the taking. And partake he will.

The child tries to hide his frail neck under his chin, but Fenrir snarls viciously at the feeble attempt and wrenches the little boy's head to the side. This close up Greyback can see the veins jump and pulse in the child's neck. It’s a scrumptious sight it is. Fenrir's jaw aches to clamp down on the creamy section of skin and rend it to pretty red pieces. 

The boy's throat is just as soft and delicate as the werewolf desired and it gives easily under his canines. Fenrir bites into his little meal with relish and thrums deeply in his chest as a heavy metallic warmth fills his mouth. The boy gasps-

Startled by the minute sound Fenrir almost loosens his grip on the four year-old. Its what he's been waiting- wanting to hear since he crept through the little tyke's window. Without thinking, Fenrir grinds his teeth slightly deeper into the little one's punctured muscle, and to his great pleasure, the child makes the meager sound again. 

Greyback's eyes dilate as his inner wolf claws at the thin veil between them. It wants more. More of that sound. He is only too happy to oblige.

But…

Fenrir doesn't know how he manages it, but his jaw slowly unclamps itself and he allows the child's raw flesh to slide free of his pointed teeth. The boy wouldn’t survive another bite to his neck and the werewolf was not close to being done with him. He'd only just made his first noise of pain, and the little one's speckled shoulder looks so inviting. 

Sensing his intensions, the child attempts to cover Fenrir's next target under one small, trembling hand. Greyback exhorts no effort in removing it, placing it over the boy's bleeding wound instead. This will give both of them a little more time, and judging by the young one’s trembling lower lip and tear streaked face, he knows it too. The boy is so instinctive its uncanny, but Fenrir kind of likes it.

Instead of lowering himself, this time the werewolf lifts the boy up to his mouth. The flesh of his shoulder is not quite as soft as his neck was, but it is just as tasty. 

And just as he hoped, the little one cries out softly, his small body quaking fitfully in the predators arms.

“Ah-nnh!”

Instantly, Greyback's wolf is at the threshold, baying for more; demanding that he satisfy its ravenous hunger. 'Tear! Claw! Feed!’ It howls, ‘Mine! Bite! Mine!’ 

The moon is only a sliver glowing faintly through the bedroom window, a mere crescent, and it’s Fenrir who is in control. He doesn't want this to end as quickly as the wolf would have it. He- he wants something more…. permanent.

His wolf is so fierce and domineering, so quick to kill, that he often forgets It’s true rapacious nature. ‘Two shallow marks,’ It wheedles, ‘will not turn him. Not enough! Must bite! More! Ours!’

And so, Fenrir bites the child again.

“Unh!”

And again.

“Ah-mm!”

And again.

“..ahHh.”

Each and everytime he sink his teeth in, the little one gasps and whimpers. So child-like, so hurt, so perfect. It drives the werewolf into a nearly delirious craze and he takes more and more of the boy for himself. 

He takes the child's angel kissed shoulder. Then he claims his lithe, little arm. The supple skin of his fleshy side is Greyback's too. And on and on it goes. The werewolf biting. The little boy crying. 

Until Fenrir cannot hear his prey anymore, then he shoves his wolf back into It's proper place. The moon is nowhere near full, and Greyback will have his way.

The little one… Remus? Yes. 

Little Remus is definitely a sight. Bite marks and blood trails litter the child's body and Greyback wonders, for the first time in his life, if he's gone too far.

‘Not enough. Not far enough.’ His wolf's influence is faint, barely there. 'Should be mine. Whole moon. Ours. Bite, yes?’

“No.” Fenrir scowls at the mess of Remus he's made. “It'll kill him, you greedy thing.”

Remus moans, trying to curl in on himself and get away from the werewolf's voice. 

“Shh, little one.” Fenrir tries to soothe, lifting the child to his chest to better access the damage. 

From the boy's waist and up there is not a section of skin that hasn't been marked. There's blood every place the werewolf's teeth have been, but an alarming amount swirled in a pool at Remus' navel.

He curses. He'd gone too far, bloody fool!

At first, all he desired was to get back at that fool, Lyall Lupin, for his grave blunder.

Greyback meant to kill the bastard's child and laugh from a distance when the man came home to discover the body. That’s what he planned. But Remus had been so intriguing, delicious, and even brave too. He is the seventh child Greyback has actively sought after, and unlike the other tasty morsels, Remus is unique.

Fenrir wants him… to keep.

‘Ours.' Greyback's wolf assures from it's place inside the wild man. 'Son of the moon.'

Suddenly, Fenrir feels a pull deep within his gut and a thin string of magic wrests itself from his bowels to dance over Remus’ fetal form. The werewolf watches raptly as little by little the boy's wounds close and his precious blood seeps back inside. 

Wandless magic. Disgusting.

‘Moon magic. Different.'

Fenrir's grin is all teeth.

“Remus.” He murmurs, drinking in the sight of the living body in his arms. The living boy who bears his claiming mark all over his skin. Little Remus breathes in and out slowly, his heartbeat strong and clear and echoing Greyback's ears. 

Beautiful. Alive. Mine.

“Remus.”

Just as easily as he'd entered, Fenrir takes his leave. Only this time he uses the front door and he is not alone. Remus is his to turn at the next full moon.

Fenrir’s plan isn't completely botched either. While he left no body behind, the absence of a whole child seems to distress Lyall all the same. Fenrir still gets to laugh from a distance as Lyall Lupin screams hoarsely into the night.

The werewolf has no illusions that it will be the last he hears from the hunter. Oh, no. Lyall is a vengeful bastard, the same as Fenrir. There's also the fact that Greyback left traces of himself all over the crime scene for the hunter to follow. There's no doubt that in a few hours time, teams of aurors will be swarming all over Lyall's property, investigating every crack and crevice. Analyzing every single scrap of evidence…

…probably starting with Remus' tattered and bloody play mat.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya enjoyed this halloween fic! Please comment if you have something to say.


End file.
